Tread high peaks
Hidden gold
Insult draws sword
Blood drips from cord
Foul, thirst quenched
O' crimson sate
Then roasted heart
Flesh to partake
Lo! That speech of which I hear
Of larks, Nuthatches, sky dwellers
Their intent made clear to me
Nothing stands obscured
Whispers to wind
A breath
A cut
A wound
Drank of his blood
Ate of his heart
There he sits
With corpse defiled
Lo! That speech of which I hear
Of larks, Nuthatches, sky dwellers
Their intent made clear to me
Nothing stands obscured